


Just Peachy

by brothersimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Comeplay, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Top Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brothersimpala/pseuds/brothersimpala
Summary: There’s something about the air in Georgia that gets under Sam’s skin.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Just Peachy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HandsAcrossTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/gifts).



> First fic! I hope you enjoy!

A few miles past the Florida-Georgia line, balmy heat whipping Sam’s hair into his eyes from the open window, the air shifts. Next to him, Dean’s singing along off-key to AC/DC, occasionally glancing over and pointing at Sam while he belts out the lyrics. Normally, Sam would roll his eyes and flip through his phone or watch the flickering landscape, but today there’s a twinge of annoyance gnawing at his stomach that just won’t go away.

He’s been keyed up since they left Lake City, partially because Dean cock-blocked him this morning after he got out of the shower. The rest he blames on Georgia and her overpowering heat making sweat slide down the nape of his neck, trickling down his back, and making him shiver. 

Sometimes, on their way back from cases, his brother gets it into his mind to be a tease. As infuriating as Dean can be and despite the heat, Sam enjoys the game. Today is one of those days. 

“Hey Dean,” Sam pipes up, in a lull between cassette tapes. “We’re in Georgia, we should get some actual peaches.”

A peach farm flickers by his window, orange fruit hanging heavy and ripe from tree boughs. 

“Not if they ain’t in a pie,” Dean replies. He flicks Zeppelin self-titled into the dash with a click and shoots Sam a grin. “I’m kidding, we can get peaches if ya want, I’ll pull over at the next farm we see.”

Sam narrows his eyes, watching Dean turn his gaze back to the road, suspicious of Dean’s generosity. “You sure?” 

“Mhm,” Dean sing-songs. He reaches into the back and there’s the tell-tale sign of crinkling plastic and a bag of Haribo peach rings comes into view. Sam had picked them up for Dean at the last convenience store they stopped at in Florida before starting the trek back up north.

Dean tears open the bag with his teeth, somehow not managing to spill the candy all over his lap, and rests it on the seat between him and Sam. “ _ This _ is my kind of peachy.”

Sam watches as Dean sticks a peach ring between his teeth and rips it open, letting it dangle out the side of his mouth as he chews. Sugar dusts over Dean’s bottom lip, turning the plump edge a lighter shade of pink. Sam is struck with the sudden urge to lean over and lick it off until Dean’s squirming in the driver’s seat.

“That’s fake peach,” Sam comments. He’s not staring at Dean’s mouth. Okay, he definitely is and the worst part is Dean  _ knows it.  _

Looking over at Sam, Dean darts his tongue out, licking up the sugar lingering on his lips. “Tastes real to me.” 

It’s brief, but Sam feels his body respond immediately, a rush of arousal going straight to his cock. He purses his lips and darts his eyes away from Dean to keep himself from jerking the steering wheel, getting the Impala over to the shoulder, pulling Dean into his lap, and claiming his mouth how he wants. 

Ten miles later, the sun a sparkling mirage off in the distance, Dean coasts the Impala off the interstate. To the left of the road there’s another peach farm, the biggest Sam’s seen so far. Hundreds of people are milling through the rows of trees, reaching high and snatching fruit off the branches, dropping it into baskets at their hips. Dean’s never been one for physical labor outside of running for their lives, so Sam is certain this will go swimmingly. 

As expected, the moment they get out of the car, Dean squints at the wicker basket Sam grabs from a stack near the fruit stall. “I still don’t know why we can’t just buy ones someone else picked.”

“It’s more fun this way,” Sam answers. 

Dean huffs, annoyed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Sam looks over at him and grins, noting how the early morning sun hits Dean’s cheeks just right, highlighting the smatter of freckles dusting his cheeks and the slant of his nose. Gorgeous and distracting, like always. He has half a mind to pull Dean in for a kiss, but he’s grumpy and most likely won’t be perceptive to Sam’s advances right now. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t make us be out here for too long. I just want a few for the road.”

Dean doesn’t respond but blindly follows Sam throughout the rows of trees, watching while Sam carefully picks out a dozen or so peaches. If Sam catches Dean sneaking hungry glances at him when his shirt rides up as he reaches for the fruit, well that’s just payback for this morning. 

* * *

Just outside of Macon Dean stops for gas, pulling off at an overpass boasting of just a gas station and a few fast-food restaurants. He tosses Sam two twenties, before climbing out of the car and fiddling with the pump. Heading inside, Sam bears him a second glance, eying the long line of his brother’s body and tries to ignore the latent heat of arousal thrumming through him. A young woman, Cira, is at the counter. Sam flirts with her ever so casually, something to take the edge off and he gets her to blush by the time he’s finished paying. 

He finds Dean standing next to the pump, half-leaning on the Impala. There’s one of Sam’s peaches in his hand and Dean is taking a big bite, holding eye contact. Sam freezes, a few feet away and watches, completely entranced as peach juice glosses over Dean’s lips and trickles down off of his chin. Dean darts his tongue out, gliding it over the edge of his plump bottom lip, swiping up all the juice. Then, he smirks. 

Utterly pornographic,  _ what a fucking asshole _ , Dean knows exactly what he’s doing. Sam swallows back the moan that threatens to leave his throat and steps closer. 

“So, how does it taste?” Sam asks, nodding at the half-eaten peach in Dean’s hand. 

Dean holds out the peach to Sam, a sardonic smile playing on his mouth. “Want some?” 

“Yeah.” Sam fists the front of Dean’s shirt and leans in, licking up the juice off of Dean’s chin to his lips, and sucking Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth. Dean’s initial yelp of protest turns into a choked off moan as Sam gets his tongue into Dean’s mouth tasting the sweetness lingering on his tongue. 

“Tastes good,” Sam says, stealing the peach from Dean’s hand and taking a bite, smiling around it while he chews as Dean stares at him in shock, eyes wide and dilated in arousal from just a kiss. 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, a little breathless. 

Sam squeezes the peach, taking another bite and gives Dean a once over while he chews. His brother is already hard in his jeans, the outline of his cock visible. So easy, Dean’s always been  _ so goddamn easy.  _

Juice drips over Sam’s knuckles, covering his fingers, making them sticky sweet. The peach is mostly gone, more juice and core than edible fruit so Sam tosses it to the nearby trash can. Dean watches, eyeing him greedily in a way Sam hasn’t seen since a few days ago when Dean got so desperate to have Sam’s cock in his mouth they had to pull over on the way to Florida. 

Sam closes the distance between them and holds up his hand to Dean. “Want some more?” 

Dean whines low in his throat, grips Sam’s wrist, and immediately parts his lips, sucking three of Sam’s fingers into his mouth. Their gazes lock as Dean licks and sucks at Sam’s fingers. Sam spreads them in Dean’s mouth, smiling as Dean’s pretty eyes flutter shut and he moans,  _ loud.  _ Dean twirls his tongue around Sam’s fingertips eagerly, dragging his tongue up between them, lapping up the sweet peach juice.

Distantly, there’s the sound of a feminine gasp and a gas pump clicking off.  _ Oh fuck. _ Sam had completely forgotten they were in public and not the only two people existing in the world.

“Dean,” Sam says, voice barely above a whisper, quiet enough he knows only Dean will hear him. “Follow me.” 

There’s no way either of them are getting in the car like this, they’re too horny. It would be dangerous for Dean to drive. At least, that’s the excuse Sam’s brain supplies him. 

Sam drags his fingers out of Dean’s mouth, slick and dripping with spit, and wraps them around Dean’s wrist. He tugs once and Dean stumbles after him. The convenience store is in the middle of fucking nowhere and despite the few patrons it’s mostly abandoned, lucky for Sam. Behind the building there’s nothing but endless waving wheat fields stretching out to the edge of the horizon. Once they’re out of sight, Dean grips the front of Sam’s shirt with his fist and walks him backward until Sam’s back slams against the warm red brick of the building.

“You want something, Dean?”

“Such a fucking tease,” Dean growls. He surges forward and nips at Sam’s neck, enough to draw a gasp from Sam’s throat. 

Sam slides his hand up into the short strands of Dean’s hair and tugs to get Dean to look up at him. “Pretty sure you’re the one who just sucked my fingers off in a gas station parking lot.”

“S’all your fault, you and those goddamn peaches,” Dean groans. 

Tilting Dean’s chin back further, Sam glides his thumb up and slips it between Dean’s lips. A stuttered gasp leaves Dean’s throat as he closes his mouth and greedily sucks on Sam’s thumb. His pretty eyelashes flutter shut, euphoric, and tries to grind against Sam’s thigh. If they had more time, Sam would fuck him right here, up against the wall where anyone could see. 

“Tell me, Dean.” Sam drags his thumb out from Dean’s mouth, swiping it over his lip. His palm settles on the side of Dean’s neck, his fingers spread wide. 

For a moment, Dean doesn’t respond. He stares at Sam, so turned on his eyes are glassy. It’s rare Dean gets eager like this, let alone in public. Usually only in private is Dean this slutty, and always Sam drinks it up, eggs him on to get Dean even more riled. 

“Wanna taste you, Sammy, please.” 

“Yeah? Well, I guess you should have let me fuck you this morning, huh?”

“Sam.” Dean’s so flustered, his cheeks all rosy, pupils dark and dilated, his irises nearly invisible. He’s gorgeous. And though he wants to, Sam can’t hold back any longer. 

“Knees,” Sam orders.

Ever obedient when Sam needs him to be, Dean drops down right there in the dirt. His hands fumble with Sam’s belt, over-eager, and the buckle clinks together loudly between the sound of Dean’s quickened breaths. 

His belt undone, Sam pushes Dean’s hands away, getting his cock out and guiding it towards Dean’s mouth. He’s hard, cock bright red at the tip and leaking. Dean leans in before Sam can stop him, gathering up the precome on his tongue and mouthing at the head. Sliding a hand into Dean’s hair, Sam grips the short strands and tugs him closer. The head of his cock bumps over Dean’s bottom lip, smearing precome over his lip and making it shiny. Dean opens wider for him, sucking the head into his mouth. 

An expert at cock sucking, Dean knows exactly what to do to make Sam come. He’s a tease, drags his tongue up and down the length of him, along the thick vein running up the side. Dean takes him deep and slow, pausing only momentarily to squeeze Sam’s thigh with his hand, giving Sam permission to use his throat. It’s too good, the slick feel of Dean’s mouth, warm and soft around him, working his magic.His orgasm builds quickly, intensified in the knowledge that anyone could walk around the corner right now and see Dean letting Sam fuck his mouth like this. Sam’s eyes lock with Dean’s and he comes, right in Dean’s mouth, onto the heat of his tongue.

Sam drops his hand down and spreads his fingers around Dean’s throat, not enough to choke, but to feel Dean’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallows Sam’s come. He lets his touch linger, possessive, watching how Dean’s eyes darken. He’s panting, desperate now in a way Sam hasn’t seen him in a few months. Their eyes lock, static snapping between them. 

“Sam,” Dean whispers. 

The vibration of Dean saying his name thrums against Sam’s fingers, it’s almost too much.

Gripping Dean’s shoulder, Sam hauls him to his feet and flips them around until Dean’s back bumps the wall. He grunts on impact but leans in, nipping at Sam’s bottom lip. 

“C’mon, make me come.”

In seconds, Sam has Dean’s belt undone, dipping his fingers beneath Dean’s waistband. Wrapping a loose fist around Dean’s cock, Sam’s strokes him once, from the base to the tip. A pleased chuckle leaves his throat when Dean’s cock jumps in his hand. He won’t last long, not like this. 

Sam kisses him then, surges forward and claims Dean’s mouth more tongue than lips, aggressive enough that Dean groans into it, needy for more. Starting with a few easy slow strokes at first, Sam works him slowly, from base to dip, and dipping even lower to roll Dean’s balls against his palm. Dean’s head drops to Sam’s shoulder, and he buries his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. He rubs his thumb over the head, circles it nice and slow over Dean’s slit, just to get Dean to whine against his skin. Bucking his hips into Sam’s hand, desperate to come, Sam quickens his pace. Spitting into his fist to further ease the way, Sam works him with rough jerks. Dean’s entire body shudders in Sam’s arms, tiny whimper-y sounds leaving his lips every time Sam rubs his thumb over his glans. 

“You look so hot, Dean. Want everyone to see you like this, and know they can watch but never touch you, because you’re mine.”

Sam’s words do the trick and Dean comes all over Sam’s fist, with a low groan against Sam’s neck. He rocks his hips erratically into Sam’s palm, humping the thigh Sam slipped between his legs. 

“Sammy,” Dean breathes, slowly coming down. 

Lifting his hand, Sam pushes his slick fingers into Dean’s mouth. Come coats Dean’s lips as Sam slides in, all the way to his third knuckle. Dean licks and sucks at his fingers, cleaning him up nice and good. He moans while he does, loving the taste of his own come mixed with the familiarity of Sam’s skin. 

Sliding a hand into Dean’s hair, Sam tugs, just once and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re so good for me, Dean.”

Sam’s offered no response, but when he drags his fingers out of Dean’s mouth, and Dean kisses the tip of his middle finger, Sam figures that’s all the answer he needs.

“We should get going before someone sees.” Dean fixes his pants, redoing his belt, embarrassment hitting him. He’s cute, shy a bit when he realizes people could have seen how badly he falls apart under Sam’s touch.

“What if they already did?” Sam asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

Dean snorts, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and hauls him in for a kiss, short and sweet. “Well, then they just got one hell of a show. Let’s get outta here.”

The gas station parking lot is empty, aside from the attendant’s car and the Impala. She’s still where they left them, next to the pump, sparkling in the midday sun. Dean slides into the front seat, practically giddy, humming Zeppelin under his breath. It’s always like this, after they fuck, the palpable happiness coming off his brother in waves. 

Post-sex Dean is always a sight to see, and not fit for public consumption -- neck flushed and hair sticking up a mess on his head, lips plump and bright pink. He looks debauched and so sexy Sam can’t keep his eyes off of him as Dean revs the engine and turns towards the interstate. Six more hours on the road before they end up at their stopping point for the night, and if Sam has to sit next to Dean looking like this the whole time, he’s not gonna make it. 

They’re not in a hurry, no new hunt on the horizon, maybe they’ll find the time for a few more pit stops on the way. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on twitter and tumblr under the same name: brothersimpala. :)


End file.
